Greetings gentle readers! Right so this is a prologue for what will be a multi-chap post-TRF sherlolly fic-that is if there is interest. If not… well I'll probably continue it anyway, but I'll be wearing a sad face :-(

Please R&R

I own nothing! Nothing I tell you. Nothing! (Well, except the DVDs)

Prologue: Please kill me

Molly Hooper had fielded many odd request from Sherlock Holmes over the years—necrotic tissue samples, bacterial specimens, body parts. She had thought she'd grown accustomed to the brilliant man's eccentric needs enough that she couldn't be surprised by anything that he could ask of her.

That was, of course, until he had asked her to help him die.

"I understand your apprehension, Molly," Sherlock's deep voice rumbled, rocking Molly from her daze. "What I'm asking of you is a lot, I know. More than I've ever asked of you before."

That was saying a lot.

"But you are the only one that can help me," he went on, his voice sounding more vulnerable than she'd ever heard it, more human. "I need you, Molly."

Oh god, he said it again.

Molly's heart twisted and in that moment she knew she'd do anything for the Consulting Detective. Even jump off the roof of the hospital herself.

"All right," she said at last, her voice came out quiet and reedy from lack of use; she hadn't been able to utter a word since Sherlock had told her his plan.

Sherlock's shrewd gaze narrowed on the Pathologist, who still looked rather rattled. He couldn't take the chance that she was agreeing to help him under duress. It wouldn't do for her to go changing her mind at the last moment once she'd come to her senses and realised it was too dangerous.

"All right?" Sherlock asked. "Are you certain, Molly? I need you to be sure. I need to know that you understand the ramifications that could come from your complicity. The risk involved is–"

"I know," her still mousy voice interrupted. She cleared her throat. "I understand what the consequences could be to me, to my career, to everything if anyone ever finds out that I helped you, and I don't care." Molly looked up for the first time and brought her eyes to Sherlock's slightly stunned ones. "I believe it's worth it," she told him with full conviction, then added, her voice quieter again. "I believe that you're worth it."

Sherlock's lips parted but he didn't say anything. Had Molly Hooper shocked Sherlock Holmes into silence?

She could have sworn she saw something, some kind of emotion flash through Sherlock's usually hard, impenetrable eyes, but it was there and gone before she could decipher what it was exactly. She wondered if it was even really there at all, or if she had just imagined it.

In a blink, Sherlock had regained his usual stoic visage.

"Well, then, we should get started," he said, rising gracefully to his feet. "Time is of the essence."

Molly felt like she had been spun about in a circle blindfolded as Sherlock moved so quickly into action, leaving her to try and catch up with him. She slammed her eyes shut tight and took a deep breath, girding herself for what she had to do; she was going to kill Sherlock Holmes.

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